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The receptionist gave him a sunny smile, passing him a clipboard with a form that required his signature and a small, sky-blue envelope. Unlike some of the other bulls he’d witnessed at the reception desk, he never cashed out in person. As with everything else there, the process was efficient, but it required the receptionist to cut a check, necessitating extra time on her end, an additional signature on his end, endless moments spent standing before the counter while others looked on, reminding him of why they were all there. Far easier to simply link his bank account and never think about it again, expediting the time the whole process took.
“Have a great day!” the receptionist said cheerfully as he turned away, quickly signing the release and slipping the folded money he had ready into the envelope.
The speed and efficiency of this place was something he deeply appreciated, nearly as much as the hands-on nature of the milking itself.They really ought to change the slogan. Get you in, get you off, get you on with your day.
***
She was stretched out beneath him, exactly as he remembered — pillowy breasts and lush curves, her cheeks holding a flush that spread down her body in an appealing trail that his lips followed as far as he was able to bend his head. Their eyes closed, and her dark lashes formed a shadow beneath her wide eyes. Her mouth was open in a full rosebud, small gasps of pleasure with every pump of his cock into her.
Beneath him, the milking technician had established a steady rhythm, giving him the framework for the tableau playing out behind his eyes. They were pulling him in a steady hand-over-hand motion, rolling over his head, making him jolt every time their slickened palm did so. He felt his balls tightening steadily, pulling up to his body, and knowing that his eruption was imminent.
Thinking about his ex-wife was not an ideal situation, but he’d not had a regular sex partner since the divorce, and his mind had little else to latch onto. He continued to imagine fucking her this way, steady and solid, the familiar, small sounds of her pleasure seared into his memory. If it helped him get over the finish line and took his mind off the fact that there was a stranger beneath him, Rourke figured it wasn’t hurting anyone.
. . . Until her eyes popped open. Instead of being heavy-lidded with pleasure and lust, they tightened, averting from his. It didn’t prevent him from being able to see the resentment and antipathy there. His hips faltered, their movement ceasing. This wasn’t the way it was meant to go, he tried arguing with himself.Thisfantasy was soft, from those rosy-colored early days, not towards the end . . . the nozzle of the milking machine closed over his cockhead, a guttural cry ripping from his throat at the unexpected sensation. The orgasm was nearly painful, the unwanted intrusion in his mind wiping clean the pleasure he’d been feeling only minutes earlier, and each pulse of his balls into the nozzle felt as if it were turning him inside out.
He and Veleena had never made sense. They both had expensive tastes and longed for lives far away from their humble origins, but that was where their commonalities ended. It hadn’t mattered at the beginning, because she had the brightest eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes that made him catch his breath, and when she smiled, the whole world stopped moving. His brother and cousin had told him it was hulder seduction magic, and maybe it was, but at the time it hadn’t mattered, and he hadn’t cared.
Their split hadn’t been acrimonious, but he couldn’t say it had been particularly friendly, either. They’d drifted apart, wanted different things, different lives, the path he’d thought they would follow together forking in the most predictable-yet-still-unexpected way, and they had each followed a different direction. He hadn’t spoken to her in over a year, hardly surprising as they’d been strangers by the end. She kept the Bridegton townhouse, the cat, and all of his optimism, while he exited the marriage with his workaholic tendencies, plans for his own business, and a ring through his nose to provide a gut-twisting reminder every time he looked in the mirror.
Rourke wasted no time hitching up his pants and barreling out of the room in an attempt to put as much distance as he could between himself and the milking bench, barely pausing at the desk to sign out. He needed to not come back here for a while.Give your cock a break and focus on work. What was that you said? Moderation? You’re a gods-damned hypocrite. Start a hobby if you’re bored.
He left the milking farm with a resolute step. The voice in his head was right, he decided. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had questioned if this habit was becoming problematic.The employees probably recognize you at this point, probably have a name for you. Is that what you want?Fantasizing about Veleena wasn’t healthy. He didn’t want his ex back, didn’t know what sort of relationship he was in the market for if any, and all ofthiswas a distraction.
He would do what he did best, Rourke decided. He had missed holidays, birthdays, even his own surprise party once, all in the name of work. Putting everything in his life on the back burner for his career was second nature at that point, and turning the milking farm into one more thing he didn’t have time for would not be a challenge.
Chapter 3
“Whatmadeyouchangeyour mind?”
They were sitting in her backyard again, the sky already an inky wash overhead. There wouldn’t be too many more nights like this. Summer was waning, and the wet bluster of Autumn would be upon them. Soon it would be too cold, and they would be shoveling their patios just to find the grills, but for now, they were able to enjoy sitting outside together. It was once an activity enjoyed a few times a week, before she had reneged on their joint singleness.
Lurielle glanced up to meet his eye, holding it for a long moment before turning her attention back to her salad. She sighed, stretching her short legs beyond the edge of the paving stone terrace, her pink-painted toenails disappearing as they curled into the grass. It was a rare night without her boyfriend around, but the weather was mild, and it was too nice for each of them to sit alone in their respective homes. It had been too long since he had a quiet evening with his friend. He disliked how much he missed evenings like this.
“Took you long enough. I’ve been expecting this for months.”
Rourke snorted, a bullish sound of disgust, and she grinned, spearing cherry tomato on the tines of her fork. “Am I that predictable?”
“You really are. I expected you to say something after that night. You two practically had a pissing match over my garage door.”
Rourke shook his head. Her garage door had been stuck, necessitating righting it on the tracks, a task that took both of them, which had requiredoneplan of action. Khash had been too busy flapping his gums about the way he thought it ought to be done to listen to Rourke’s straightforward,correctplan of attack.
“So yeah, I’ve been expecting it.”
“Well, do you have an answer? What made you change your mind?”
“I’m not one of your employees, and you don’t get to demand anything from me,” she snapped before sighing, munching on another mouthful of salad before shrugging. “Why the fuck not? What else am I supposed to be doing?”
“What happened to working on yourself?” he countered, parroting back the line she’d used countless times before. “Trying new hobbies, being independent, learning gnomish?”
“I’m learning orcish now. And what makes you think I stopped doing any of those things? Did I stop being an individual the second I got a boyfriend?”
“Of course not.” He frowned. She was twisting his words, making it sound as ifhewere the one who had ranted and raved about elvish expectations and the desire to be alone after being coupled for so long. “But youdidsay that you wanted to wait until —”
“Well, I guess I changed my mind,” she countered hotly. “Why not now? What was I supposed to do, wait around forever? Wait until I’m thinner? Richer? Better adjusted? Better than the person I was two weeks ago? You’re right, Rourke. I did say I wasn’t ready for a relationship, that I wanted to be single. That I wanted to work on myself. And I’m sorry if you feel like I broke a pact or something. But I could keep working on myself every day until I’m dead; it’s never going to make me perfect. It’s never going to magically transform me into someone else.”
“Of course, you don’t need to be perfect!” He couldn’t help but feel as though he had trapped himself in a corner, as if this entire conversation was made of nothingbutcorners, and maybe it was.You should have kept your big mouth shut and enjoyed the evening.
Lurielle sucked in a ragged breath, shaking her head. “Saying we want to wait to get into a relationship until we’ve jumped some invisible hurdle is meaningless for people like us, Rourke. There are other folks who need to learn to be alone, but they’re not us. Alone is our factory setting. And us putting these nonexistent goals in place is just a way to keep ourselves in that factory setting, and we just keep sleepwalking through our own lives. That’s how I felt, at least.”
